Misted Moon 1/1
by Stephanie3
Summary: As the only surving Gundam pilot, a condemned Trowa is brought before Treize Khushrenada and made an offer.


Disclaimer: This is a work of amateur non-profit fiction and are not intended to infringe on the rights of Sunrise, Sotsu Agency, Asahi TV, and Bandai Visuals. So try to control yourselves and don't sell it or anything! 

Warning: Death-fic, hints of Shounen-ai 

Characters: Trowa Barton, Treize Khushrenada   
Rating: PG-13   
Status: Complete 

  


  


## Misted Moon

  
_**Stephanie**_  
September 2000 

* * *

  


  


> Yume kaese  
karasu no samasu  
kiri no tsuki 
> 
> _--Onitsura_

**Give me back my dream, Raven! This moon you woke me to is misted over. 

  


  


  


The nightfall brought with it the full moon. From the angle he was positioned in the corner of his cell, he could see it through the barred window. But the window was small, the moon would soon pass from his sight and the room would darken once again. He sat in an old wooden chair with his feet resting on the seat and his arms wrapped around knees. He took in what he could, committing it to memory. It would be the last time he would see it, and he wanted to take it with him. 

It was clear and bright, all of its pox marks were visible. Around it he could see a halo. 

"Nice moon tonight, isn't it?" The guard for the next shift said as he walked in the cell. "Looks like we got a 'witch moon', eh?" he chuckled. 

Trowa continued to look out the window, ignoring the man. 

"Why aren't you writing? That other one. . ." The man struggled for a name. "Umm, that blond... the rich one. . . he wrote the whole night right up till it was his time." 

"His name is Quatre Raberba Winner." Trowa informed him without looking away from the moon. 

"Yeah, yeah, that's him!" The guard nodded. "He just kept on writing till they led him away. It's your right, you know? We aren't barbarians, we're civilized. You got your last words if you want them." 

He wondered briefly what Quatre would have written before letting it pass from his mind. Quatre was a kind gentle soul, and Trowa knew his heart already. There was no need to desperately cling to last words. The world could have them, it needed them more than he did. 

"Eh, I guess you'll be like those others. They didn't write either. Except that one with the long hair." He laughed. "There was a real character! Don't think the world is going see his last words though." The man shook his head in amusement. "Hell, I can't say I blame him, I might have written the same if I were in his shoes." 

_Duo._ Trowa thought. Yes, he could just imagine what his last words were. He had a suspicion that it didn't take Duo the entire night to write them. 

"The other two were silent like you. The only sound they made came from the snap of their necks." Said the guard. There was no malice in his words, it was merely a statement. 

Trowa turned to the guard, the last of the moon had past from his view. _Hanged_, he thought. "Yeah," the guard confirmed noting Trowa's reaction. "Oz usually uses a firing squad for military executions, but since you all are considered terrorists, they're using the rope." 

Trowa nodded and turned back to face the wall. 

"But that one with the long hair. . ." The guard laughed heartily. "He screamed and taunted the whole damned way to his execution. 'Can't aim for shit so ya hafta hang us!' he shouted right before they dropped the goddamned floor from under him." The man shook his head. "Real spirit in that one. But that poor little blond one. . ." The guard became somber, taking his hat from his head. "He was too light. Hung up there damn near an hour before he finally gave it up. Not a dry eye out there that day, even the Captain lowered his head at the sight." He said, shaking his head. "It was hard to remember that boy was a Gundam pilot. Shit, looked like Oz had gone mad and was hanging an angel instead." He put his hat back on his head. "Shame things turned out the way they did. But. . .I suppose there's got to be order. . ." 

The last of the moonshine still shone from the window as Trowa looked back to it. He wished for a moment that he could look out and watch the moon trace its path along the ecliptic. But the window was too high and it was already gone. 

"Those other two went with dignity. SNAP!" he exclaimed and snapped his fingers to emphasize. "No begging or pleading. Not one of them. They died well." 

Trowa continued looking out the now completely darkened window. Not even a star shone through, but he remained staring. 

"I'd leave if I could. Hell, I'd know you'd rather be alone tonight. But I guess Romefeller wants to make sure you don't kill yourself before they get a chance. You're the last gundam pilot and found living right under Oz's nose! That makes you a celebrity!" 

Trowa turned sideways on the chair, resting his shoulder and his knees on the back rest. He closed his eyes. 

"Well, I'll just let you rest then." The guard said. 

Trowa did not know how long they sat in silence, but he was grateful for it. He did not want to know anything more of the others. They were dead and soon he would be too. It was enough to know that. 

When the door opened, he did not acknowledge it. Another shift change. Another intrusion into the rest of his life. There would be talking again. 

"We are here to transport the prisoner." The new voice spoke. At that announcement, Trowa looked up at the two new Oz soldiers that had entered the cell. He did not expect to move. They had already transferred him to the final location before they were to execute him. 

"I was told _I_ was to have the final watch." The old guard said. 

"New orders."The man replied as he handed over a document. Neither soldier offered up anymore information. 

The old guard shook his head in disgust. "They never tell the low level pissants anything, do they?" He handed over his keys and a set of manacles. "I guess he's yours then." 

One of the soldiers took the manacles and walked over to Trowa. "Stand." 

Trowa stood and extended his hands to the man to be bound. The soldier clasped them over his hands without speaking or looking at him. The soldier did his duty, nothing more. 

They led him out to a jeep and directed him into it. Once inside, they tightly fastened his legs and waist to straps, and then proceeded to seat themselves in the vehicle. No one spoke. 

The top of the jeep was down, and Trowa let his gaze turn back to the moon. It was far in the west now, and a thick mist was obscuring most of it from view. Trowa could only make out a ball of grey light from behind the clouds. 

He kept track of the time by the fall of the misted moon and judged nearly an hour before they stopped in front of what appeared to be a private estate. They unstrapped him without ceremony, as silent as they were before. They escorted him into the mansion and left him in a large room which looked to be an office of a high ranking aristocrat. As the soldiers left, he stood where they left him, staring straight ahead and taking in only what was in front of him and on his peripheral vision. 

"I'm so pleased to see that I am not too late." A voice spoke in a calm even tone as it entered the room. Trowa continued to stare ahead. 

The movement of the voice stopped right behind him. "It is to my great sorrow that the other Gundam pilots could not have been saved. I was not in a position then to help them. I hope that I can salvage something of their memory tonight." The man began to walk again and stopped in front of his desk facing Trowa. 

"Treize Khushrenada." Trowa said in a whisper. 

"Yes," he said with a slight bow of his head. "And tonight I am here to serve you, Trowa Barton." 

Trowa said nothing, his face remained impassive. 

"I can see your distrust. It is well placed." Treize said as he poured himself a glass of cognac. 

Trowa glanced down to his manacles and then back to Treize. 

"Ah, yes. Those won't do, will they?" He took a key from his pocket and walked over to Trowa. He slipped the key into the lock and released the manacles from Trowa's hands. Treize took them and set them on his desk. "I'm sorry those were necessary, but the role I must ascend to has not yet been made vacant." 

Trowa nodded once. He clasped his hands behind his back and waited for Treize to continue. 

"Please, have a seat." He said gesturing to the leather chair in front of his desk. 

Trowa stood in place for a moment, making no attempt to accept or reject the invitation. His eyes focused on the round dim light emanating from the window behind Treize. The moon was setting. After a moment, Trowa shifted his gaze to meet Treize's eyes. He walked slowly to the chair in front of him and sat down. 

Treize sat behind his desk. He took a sip of the cognac and set it back down "Lady Une has spoken very highly of you." He began. "Ironic how her most trusted subordinate was in fact the enemy." 

Trowa crossed his legs and set his hands folded into his lap. "I make it a point to always perform to the best of my abilities. Lady Une recognizes excellence within her ranks." 

"Indeed." Treize agreed. "When I informed her that I would be bringing you here, it was she that requested I hand something over to you. It was originally intended for another pilot, but when we found we were too late, she insisted that you were more than capable of handling it." 

Trowa raised his eyes, but said nothing. 

"I suppose as a Gundam pilot you are not one to waste time on formalities, are you? Please," Treize said as he stood. "Follow me." 

Trowa rose silently from his seat and followed Treize out into the great hall of the mansion. 

"I owe you a debt of gratitude, it would seem." Treize spoke as he lead Trowa down the corridor. "You and the other Gundam pilots are responsible for restoring Lady Une back to me. Particularly you, Trowa Barton." 

"Is that why you brought me here?" Trowa asked. "To pay off a debt?" His voice was even and without emotion. 

"No." Treize said. "I brought you here to restore balance and--" He stopped for a moment to consider his next word. "Justice." He continued walking. 

Trowa merely nodded, though Treize could not see him. 

"Oz has changed." Treize said. "Its current state is not what I set out to create when Romefeller first asked me to take on it's leadership. I looked to tradition, strength and honor to guide my path. And yet I have failed." He turned to Trowa as he continued to walk down the hall. "Why do you think that is, Trowa Barton?" 

"You tried to impose your brand of order on what is inherently chaotic." Trowa answered without looking at him. 

Treize smiled. "Perhaps you are correct." he turned back to face ahead as he walked the rest of the length. "If life exists only in the struggle, then to watch it truly unfold we must leave it in its state of nature. I thank you for your insight." 

Trowa said nothing, turning his attention instead to the sound of the footfalls echoing through the hall. 

"You don't believe in the attainment of universal everlasting peace, do you." Treize stated.. 

"No." Trowa replied. 

"Yet you fight for it. Why?" Treize asked. 

"It's a nice thought." Trowa said. 

"Um. Yes." Treize agreed. "And you are prepared to die for the sake of a nice thought?" He asked. 

"It's as good of a reason as any." Trowa answered. 

"I envy your freedom." Treize said as he approached a door at the end of the hall. 

Trowa stopped and stared at Treize's back. "My freedom?" He questioned. 

Treize turned to face him. "I suppose it doesn't feel that way to you now." He smiled "But when you look back on this day, you will remember. . . And you will understand." 

_Freedom_ Trowa thought. _It was so close. . ._

Treize turned back to the door ahead of him and opened it. He gestured for Trowa to follow him through it. As Trowa stepped into the next room he found that it was more of a hangar than part of the mansion. He could not see where Treize had gone, so he merely stood in the small lighted area where he had been left. 

As the lights were turned on one by one, Trowa saw the reason he had been brought there. On the far side of the hangar stood a single mobile suite which was undeniably a Gundam. He walked closer to survey the mecha. 

"Its name is Epyon." Treize said, coming into view once again. 

_ It's a demon. _ Trowa thought. The Gundam was painted scarlet and had a whip attached to it that resembled the tail of a scorpion. The face of the mecha looked like Zero. Trowa shuddered at the thought, remembering having faced it once before when Quatre had attacked him while under its influence. 

But the color of this new Gundam, and the accessories Treize had chosen for its weaponry, made it look as though it belonged to Satan himself. Shinigami had always reminded Trowa of the stories he had heard of the Grim Reaper as a child, but he had never associated it with evil. Shinigami represented to Trowa the inevitability of all life. It was merely death. 

Epyon looked like the personification of a fate worse than death. 

"Take Epyon," Treize said. "it will show you your destiny." He looked up to the Gundam. "Take it and follow what is in your heart. And then," He paused. "Return to me and end this conflict." 

Trowa looked up to Epyon and then back to Treize. "Fight. . . again. . ." He said quietly. "You do this for balance and justice?" He asked while still staring at the Gundam. 

"For the good of humanity." Treize replied. 

Trowa shook his head. "I am neither humanity's last stand nor your judge." He turned and began walking toward the door he had entered. "You were mistaken to bring me here. The one you want is dead." 

"I see." Treize said. "Then accept this instead." Trowa turned back around. Treize held in his hand an envelope. 

Trowa stared at him, not moving yet to accept it. 

"It is the last statement of Quatre Raberba Winner." Treize informed him. "Romefeller will never allow this document to survive, and it is not a philosophy I can endorse in the face of my own ideals." He walked a few steps toward Trowa. "Take it to Relena Peacecraft, she will know what to do with it." He said as he extended his hand toward Trowa. 

Trowa took the document from Treize and nodded. 

"You are free, Trowa Barton." Treize said, and Trowa thought he heard sincerity in his voice. "Live well." 

Trowa stared at the Oz commander. "Free. . ." Trowa repeated. "Free you say?" Trowa met Treize's eyes once again. No relief or anger shone in his eyes, only the inherent sadness of one who felt nothing. "How does one who has never known freedom give it to another?" 

Treize stared back at him in silence. 

"No. . . I am not free. You took that away from me too." Trowa said dispassionately. "Almost. . . almost free. Then you took it away. Now I must fight again." 

Treize nodded in acceptance of the accusation. "A man is only defined after his death." He eyes were apologetic. "If you wish, you may still choose that path." 

_ Epyon,_ Trowa thought. _Will destroy you more surely than I. _ He shook his head. "Only one who is free can choose a path, Treize Khushrenada. I go where I'm led." he looked down at the envelope in his hand and back to Treize. His voice was detached and resigned."Now I live for the small blond child who strangled to death because his body was too light for his neck to snap." He turned back around and headed for the door. He did not know if Treize responded. 

It didn't matter. 

  


  
~end~ 

  



End file.
